Where Do You Think You're Going In That?
by ItsMrFabulous
Summary: Being Part Four Of The Chronicles of The Effing Betch. Max just wants to look good while going out, but Cindy is on much more different terms. COMPLETE. PART FIVE COMING SOON.
1. Chapter 1: Divine Intervention

Max was getting ready for another night out on the town

Max was getting ready for another night out on the town. Food, fun, friends, and looking for sex. Life couldn't be any better.

All dressed up, she applied some lipstick, rubbing the substance around to make her lips shiny and sexy.

Sex would come her way, oh yes it WOULD.

Meanwhile, downstairs Cindy sipped on her sparkling water, sighing happily.

"What a day it's been! Let's read my pamphlet here…" Grabbing the parcel, she unfolded it to read:

"What would Jesus Do?"

For ages 55 and older.

Cindy read more. "Number one: love thy neighbor. Love thy neighbor as thyself."

Cindy, you dirty old woman. You dirty, dirty whore.

Cindy turned her eyes to the skies. "Thank you God."

Max came downstairs, singing, "I've got a CRUSH ON YO MOMMA!"

Cindy looked up, her face growing horrified. "OH…no."

She stood up, interfering with Max's plans. "EXCUSE ME!"

The intervention began. This wouldn't be pretty.


	2. Chapter 2: Verbal AbuseEnd

I've never taken the time to say this, but thank you for actually taking three and a half minutes to read all this

I've never taken the time to say this, but thank you for actually taking three and a half minutes to read all this. They're really fun and easy to write, and they're not that great, but for some reason, you people read them. Thanks. Love you.

Last part.

"What is that coming down my stairs…?"

Max, in her cute little vest and pink "I recycle boys" shirt that she stole from Iggy, black shiny small skirt and army boots, roller her eyes for the seventh time.

"Where do you think you're going in that?"

The recurring question was beginning to bug Max. "Out with my friends, Mom." She mumbled.

"You're gonna march RIGHT UPSTAIRS. THAT'S WHAT YOU'RE GONNA DO. MARCH IT!" Doing a 360 just to emphasize the fact that she found Max's outfit to be in great distaste, Cindy found a tramp stamp over the exposed skin. A Chinese symbol, meaning "I hate my parents and I give great head."

"IS THAT A TATTOO!" Cindy sashayed hurriedly to face her daughter again. "Tattoos are from the devel." She mumbled. She walked away, repeating the line. "TATTOOS ARE FROM THE DEVEL."

More emphasizing. Cindy turned around, narrowing her eyes at Max, breathing, "The devel."

Pacing around, Cindy worked herself up more still. "You don't even know Chinese!"

_I do now_, Max thought. _Betch. CUSS YO ASS UP IN MANDARIN._

"You're gonna march right up, turn right around, shi-I'M SO FLUSTERED!" Pacing still, Cindy flexed her fists. This bitch is crazier than Max is.

"Why are you wearing that?!" She shouted at no one.

She had it!

"You've been watching too much of the HBO!" Cindy waved an old decayed finger at Max.

"OK, you know what? That was ONE TIME! And Iggy and Fang were trying to make me watch Queer As Folk! UHNKAY!" It's her favorite show now.

Sighing exasperatedly, ignoring Max, about to have a stroke, Cindy attempted to get her thoughts together. "Jesus Christ on a crutch." She stopped, mumbling to herself again, because that's what old people do.

"No, we're gonna go put some clothes on you! You look like a street walker! A lady of the night! They're gonna pay you…for lookin' like that! A PROOSTITOOT! All the boys – oh the boys! What did I tell you about boys Max?!"

Max sighed. "They want to get into my too too!"

"Thaaaaaat's RIGHT! YOUR TOO TOO! They're gonna wanna get in it unless you go cover up that too too! Ya look like a tranny! We might end up on Montel, for Cri-yi! My daughter! A PROOSTITOOT!"

Cindy glared at Max. "Ya wanna make five dollars, you can help your father put on his shoes! He has a bad back! Ya wanna make then!? Then CHANGE YOUR CLOTHES! I don't want to be a grandmother! If I'm a grandmother, that seed will be the DEVEL!"

And we're back with devel thing again. Super.

OR NOT.

"The neighbor Brenda will have a heart attack! And it'll be your fault! You cannot leave this house! I mean, you're face is painted like a clown…and it's not even funny."

Shit's about to get personal. There was no stopping her.

"You scare me! I can't believe you came from my loins!"

Cindy made threats.

"I'm, I'm gonna tell your father that you're looking like this! You TART!"

Max, in the meantime, was so desperate that she was listening to that song by Bjork with all the screaming and shit in her her in order to drown Cindy out. Pick one, she fucking goes psycho in all of them.

"You're not even a sweet tart! Or a fruitart! Fruit tarts are sweet! OH LORD, IS THAT A TATTOO!?" Cindy found the tramp stamp again, and found her purse, beginning Max's 'makeover.'

"There we go, let's just put some foundation over that…yup, there we go. No, lets find you a nice dress, and put a belt over it. Honestly, the girls down the street don't dress like this…all those nice-looking girls at the donut shop!" Handing Max, everything, Cindy began working herself up one last time. "Now you go change into these-ooooh, now you've got me flustered! NOW YOU'VE GOT ME FLUSTERED!"

Max just walked upstairs. Fuck you, Mom.

"You won't like me when I'm flustered! I get red..and and your father can't talk to me for weeks…'course, he doesn't talk to me. Cuz he's deaf."

Slam.

Max climbed out the window, thowing one last 'betch' into the room, as she flew out of the window with the wings I've been neglecting this whole series. She landed onto the roof of Fang's waiting car.

"Let's roll, betches!"

And roll they did.

Well, well. Longest chapter in the series. Wonder if I can drag out What R U Guys Talking About?. No Booty Calls to come after Part Five. THANKS FOR READINGGGG.

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